


metaphorical cherry

by mysafeplaceishere



Series: your future, boyfriend [1]
Category: Watch Dogs (Video Games)
Genre: Dirty Jokes, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Sexual Humor, Sexual Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, warning: crude jokes, we STAN, wrench is a warning himself, wrench is big dumb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:42:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27716978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysafeplaceishere/pseuds/mysafeplaceishere
Summary: “You have to promise this isn’t a one time thing, Wrench.”“You didn’t hear this from me but I’m totally not planning on proposing to you with a ring pop tonight. Definitely not going to ask you to be my girlfriend or anything. P.S... it’s watermelon flavor.”
Relationships: Wrench (Watch Dogs)/Reader, Wrench (Watch Dogs)/You
Series: your future, boyfriend [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2027270
Comments: 4
Kudos: 55





	metaphorical cherry

**Author's Note:**

> watch_dogs legion: hi so we have this dlc coming out where you can play as wre—  
> me: okay shut up and take my money you know what you’re doing. >:/
> 
> Welcome to the start of a very chaotic series I plan on tending to for awhile. It’s got crude humor, Wrench, mild sexual content that I can’t really call all that sexual, Sitara being a queen, Wrench, me not knowing hacker terms but trying anyway, etc etc.
> 
> You guys get the point.
> 
> If Wrench seems a bit OOC, don’t hurt me. I need time to get his character down right and his personality is, sadly, challenging for me as a writer. No worries, though. I’ll get his dumb energy down soon enough.
> 
> I have a Spotify playlist that goes along with the series. Should you want it. :)
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2QFzN7P6bghmAZ3M6eM8Cr?si=Lussq9FQTUqL_-3hOYv3zg

All you wanted to do was sit and eat your sandwich on a nearby rooftop next to your hideout. Do a little admiring, a little bit of judging, catch some sunlight before heading back into your secretive base of operations where no light of day reaches the darkness.

Unfortunately, the peaceful moment you prepared for was interrupted by someone you actively try to avoid at all costs. Not because you’re afraid of him, but because you didn’t have the time and energy to do anything other than try to slip away.

You cast a glance behind you to find the familiar blue jacketed DedSec member hot in your trail. Every running step you take through the street and alleyway feels like it leads him two steps closer. Despite shifting through every crack and small crevice you can find to catch some distance, he’s always seems a play ahead of you. If you scale a building and push over the latter so it would take longer for him to catch up, he’s in the street below ready to cut you off as soon as you reach the ground again. While you could find a way around him, there would eventually be a dead end. He knows the city way better than you do.

You aren’t fast physically, either. In fact, you always chose to stay in computer class to catch up on coding rather than run track with the rest of your class in high school. Your weak heart could barely handle that pressure—heart problems aren’t fun to handle in the slightest. You suppose you got lucky that your knack of computers and coding came in handy when you decided to become a big named hacker around San Francisco.

You are no where near as known as Dedsec but a few times have you heard people on the street talk about a hacker group named C0d3x. Ironic enough that you work alone, yet none of them need to know that.

What started out as harmless pranks of hacking into systems and spreading offensive memes to higher up companies became real work of exposing that which was corrupt in the city. Drug deals, sex trafficking, corrupt cops, and even taking down other hacker groups that used their abilities to more damage than good. Your biggest mistake was going after the wrong hacker group.

While you may be getting chased by one of DedSec, you know that you kind of deserve it. Trying to expose them turned out to be the worst plan you’d ever had—and for that mistake, now they were the ones hunting and trying to expose you. All except one in which you made friends while burning important documents from cTOS in a dead end alleyway. You didn’t think your one night of total chaos would attract someone with the same intentions.

Your vision starts to blur just as you vault yourself over a car stopped at a red light. It honks at the impact of your hand against the hood but the sound barely registers to your ears. You wish you could take a break to catch your breath and calm the thumping of your heart against your rib cage but if the approaching footsteps behind you is anything to go by, stopping would get you in a lot of trouble. It might get you killed.

If you don’t get away soon, you won’t be getting away at all. DedSec isn’t known for murder unless it is deemed absolutely necessary. Whether or not they mean to kill you, you don’t want to find out. Death doesn’t scare you in the slightest but you don’t want to kick the bucket so soon. You’ve barely begun cleaning up San Francisco—you’ve barely begun living life. You at least want to get laid before dying. It isn’t your biggest goal but it has to count for something.

The edges of your vision is starting to close in and you know if you don’t stop to take a minute, it won’t take long for you to pass out from exhaustion. It’s time for a plan B. It doesn’t have a high success rate by any means and you know, despite your pride telling you not to, you need some help from a close friend. A close, weird and mentally unstable friend that makes fun of your height every time he gets the chance.

You duck behind the nearest building and pull out your phone to shoot a quick text asking for assistance. Peeking around the corner provides you with a good view of your pursuer halting in the middle of the sidewalk. He takes a good look at the area around him, searching for anything that may be out of place. Your heart jumps to your throat when he decides to slip around the café corner and out of sight. If he isn’t in your line of sight, you don’t feel safe. Less so now that you don’t have a clue where he could be hiding.

You know not to trust that he left just like that. He lingers in an area for way longer than he should.

‘Yo I need some help. It’s urgent.’ -Message Sent

A beat later and the familiar ding of your phone makes your adrenaline spike. You can’t tell if it’s in relief or more stress. He could have heard that, and you scramble to silence your phone as fast as possible. 

This friend of yours doesn’t offer help lightly, or to just anyone. Especially if they’re his rival. Although you realized a long time ago that he liked to do things “out of the box” for fun. Sometimes “out of the box” meant taking the nearest grenade launcher and blowing up a preschool in the middle of the night. Thank goodness it was in the middle of the night when no one was in it less there be people missing out of families.

‘Asking for a favor are u? U must b in a real pickle. ^^’ -Message Read

‘Whatever u need, it shall be done madam.’ -Message Read

‘Marcus is after me and I’m on the verge of losing consciousness. I need a diversion.’ -Message Sent

‘Marcus? What do u mean after u?’ -Message Read

‘I mean he knocked the sandwich out of my hands as I was trying to eat and then tried to tackle me down so I couldn’t get away. I’ve been getting chased for the past 5 minutes!’ -Message Sent

‘He knocked the sandwich out of your hands?! >://‘ -Message Read

‘How dare he.’ -Message Read

‘I shall serve justice for that sandwich!!’ -Message Read

You want to reply something snarky to match his foolhardy nature but end up shoving your phone into your back pocket and crouch behind a dumpster at the sound of footsteps approaching the alleyway you hide in. They aren’t heavy and if you hadn’t been intently listening, the traffic from cars and passing conversations might have overpowered them.

If it were in the dead of night, you might could slip away undetected. You could possibly blend into the dumpster itself with the cover of darkness. Unfortunately, since it’s broad daylight and you wear a large portion of black clothing, you stand out like a black rose in a field of white dandelions.

Your panicked expression curls into a grimace, bottom lip sucked between your teeth when he calls out in a knowing tone.

“I know you’re here. Just show yourself and we can talk.”

Once again, you’re out of options; stuck between a rock and a hard place. That special friend of yours better get on his justice for that sandwich or you are royally screwed. While you don’t think Marcus is going to kill you—because technically you haven’t tried killing him—that doesn’t mean you aren’t meant to take get a few scrapes fighting your way out of his grasp. What he probably wants is your phone that contains most of your code, passwords, notes and everything else a hacker could think of. Your secrets for all eyes to see; that’s what DedSec wants. A firewall protects your information but they would have it cracked like an egg on the sidewalk.

“No thanks,” you answer back with a snarl, muffled by your mask, “I have no interest in talking to the likes of you.”

“The likes of _me_?”

There is a moment of silence as he processes your words. You strain your ears to hear anything that might reveal his location within the alley and flinch when he bursts into bellyaching laughter. It’s an almost carefree laugh and should you have been good on terms with him, such a laugh might have given you butterflies. You can only imagine how handsome his smile must be under his own mask.

The guy may be a pain in every area of your life but that doesn’t mean you can’t admire how good looking he is. Marcus by no means is an ugly face. Not exactly your type, seeing as your current type doesn’t show his face to anyone, but you can admire a pretty face when you see one.

“You stole from us,” he continues on, still giggling through his words, “and we want that data back. Not to mention getting your identity would be a huge bonus.”

Your identity is your most precious possession. If they find out who you are, they find out everything about you. Your name, how much money your make, your illnesses and more. While you did lock down your profiling so your information can’t be stolen by common thieves, DedSec isn’t a common thief. They would have your personal information within thirty minutes, and should that happen, you would have to leave the city all together. You wouldn’t risk your safety in that way. They could ruin your life from the inside out.

“I stole information on Blume. Shouldn’t all hackers have that knowledge?” You peek your head over the dumpster, eyes narrowed. He knows where you are at this point. No point in hiding it.

“That isn’t the problem. Everyone should have that knowledge. But the fact is: you stole from us. You stole from DedSec and that doesn’t just fly by us,” he says with a knowing tilt of his head.

“Says you. I can get away with whatever I want,” you smirk beneath your mask despite the fact he can’t see it. The crinkle of your eyes should be a good indicator, though.

His shoulders bounce with a chuckle. _“Says you.”_

Your smirk falls into panic as soon as he starts walking in your direction. There’s no way you can fight him off with your body strength alone. You could give it a good try and might hold your own for a second or two but ultimately his strength beats yours by a mile. Running isn’t a smart idea because not only would it make you more exhausted than you are, but it would put too much strain on your heart. Not that it would matter if you could run away. He’s so close that it would take no time for him to catch up. 

You take one step back when he takes one step forward but he’s closing the gap with his freakishly long strides. Your phone begins to ring and eyes trained on Marcus, fish it out of your back pocket and clumsily hold it to your ear. Your hands are trembling and the phone barely stays in contact with the side of your face.

“This is kind of a bad time,” you breath out.

“I’d say it’s a pretty swell time! You miiiiiiight want to get out of there because I just sent Marcus’ location to the police. Two police patrols and one helicopter is on the way. And before you yell at me, Marcus can get away easy enough. You, on the other hand, need to run your _cute little self_ to my garage to hide for awhile.”

You gulp, whispering into the phone. “He’ll still catch me before I can get away. I already feel faint enough.”

“I have that covered! Just run straight out of the alleyway and across the street. Don’t stop for anything, okay? Okay! See you here in a bit, snookems!”

The line goes dead before you can reply. Your gaze travels upwards to find a camera sharing in your direction, red light trained directly on you. A wobbly smile curls at your lips just thinking about how he’s been spying on the situation this whole time. Of course he is. You should have known; he’s nosy enough as it is. You know for a fact that he goes through your Nudel history.

Sirens wailing in the distance makes both you and Marcus seize up in anticipation. You take the pause to spin on your heel and sprint straight of alleyway. Marcus curses under his breath for being careless, loud enough for you to hear, and his footsteps follow in pursuit. You throw yourself into the traffic of the stress just as you had been told. Most of the cars give you an angry honk but you safely make it across without being splattered against the road.

You barely make it to the sidewalk before the pipes under the asphalt burst from pressure and a huge explosion cuts Marcus off. A few passerby’s scream at the sudden noise and you wince at just how bad the damage is. No one was harmed but it could have killed Marcus had it not been timed probably. You would check to see if he’s okay but you know sticking around would only be wasting all the effort of distraction.

You blend into the large crowds to slip away undetected. Just once you cast a glance back over your shoulder to see Marcus standing in the same place you had been, head swiveling around to catch a glimpse of you. Then the police start to pull up one by one with their sirens wailing and you can’t help but snicker of his misfortune. The fact that one of his own members threw him under the bus like that is kind of cruel in a way.

You wave down a taxi when you know you’re out of harms way. Getting to sit down and relax for a moment makes you sigh. Then you train your eyes out of the window on the way to the garage for some, hopefully, down time to talk with your chaotic life saver.

You let yourself through the back door as quietly as possible. The loudest rock music blares through the whole garage and you laugh under your breath at the fact that you feel the safest in a DedSec safehouse. They would have a heart attack if they knew you frequently visited this place.

You scan the place from top to bottom and find no sign of life anywhere. And yet you can hear the modulated whispers from a certain punk echoing from somewhere within the garage. “Wrench, I’m here!”

Your voice can hardly be heard of the shredding drum solo that shrieks from the speakers but just enough that you see the bench in the right side of the room shift to the side. A hard thud accompanies the jerk. Wrench pops out from under it, rubbing at the top of his head. His mask displays an emotion of pain before lighting up with exclamation points at your arrival.

You cross your arms over your chest, shifting your weight to one leg and raising a brow. Your eyes scale him from head to toe and you’re thankful the cloth of your mask hides the slight bite to your bottom lip. Years ago you would have never guessed you would be getting hot and bothered over a guy named Wrench. Much less a guy covered from head to toe with spikes and tattoos, but somehow every time you’re in his presence, the more you want to jump him. He probably wouldn’t have a problem with it if you said something. The guy has a crude sense of humor.

You have class though. Wooing them first goes a long way. Also risking the relationship between a DedSec member that offers you safety would be dumb in itself. Your eyes do wander, though.

“Give some warning next time! You want me to give me a concussion?” He points a finger at you.

“That was my warning. You’re just easily startled,” you pull down your mask to offer a toothy grin.

He waves a hand at you with a grumble. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get your panties in a twist or else I’d have to untwist them for you. Which is fine,” he purrs, before catching your disappointed head tilt, “just get over here. I have something to give you.”

Exhausted as you may be, you hurry over with a slight jog. “A gift for me? Touching.”

Wrench places a hand over his heart. “I’m the most touching person you’ll ever meet. You can ask Marky Mark. I kiss his forehead every night before bed.”

A string of genuine laughter erupts from your mouth when he finishes that sentence with a few animated kissy noises. The electric buzz of his masks filter makes the noises a bit crumbly. You round the corner of his bench and nudge him with your elbow on the way past. “You’re only touching when stoned and getting off to playboy magazines when no one is around.”

If you could see his face, you can bet that he’d have the expression of someone who was served food with glass in it: completely offended. He crosses his tattooed arms over his chest and shifts his weight to peer down at you. The height difference only makes your face grown warm despite knowing he is trying to intimidate you.

“I’ll have you know I get off like everyone else,” he makes a crude gesture that makes your upper lip crinkle, “by getting comfortable on my couch and taking out my—“

You waste no time throwing your fist into his forearm and he shuffles away with knowing laughter, rubbing the spot you hit. “Ey ey ey! Marcus may be into hearing about your alone time adventures but I would not like that image in my head.”

“No one never lets me finish telling the good part,” he throws his head back with a whine.

You lift yourself onto his work table and lean back on your palms, eyes facing towards the ceiling. It gives Wrench the perfect opportunity to ogle with you completely unaware. “I’m sure you finish alright.”

“Oh, that was _classy_ ,” his voice drops, practically dripping with sarcasm.

You offer a shrug. “I happen to be one of the most classy people you will ever meet. Thank you for noticing.”

He rolls his shoulders with a mumbled, _“oh sure,”_ and waves a dismissive hand in your direction. You barely catch a glimpse of mask emoting minus signs before his head turns.

“So I was thinking,” he drowns on whilst rummaging through the mini fridge he has hidden in the corner, “me, you, a couple of grenade launchers and passionate sex. I mean a whole wham bang! Sparks and smoke, baby! Ohhhh, just gives me _chills_ thinking about it.”

Your breath hitches when he stands up holding a plastic bag and two beers. The image of Wrench blowing up someone’s car on accident, playing it off and then trying to get into your pants makes you cup a hand over your mouth. You try not to laugh at the ridiculousness of it but somehow trying to shave it off makes the urge worse.

“Wait, so would we use the grenade launchers during this oh so passionate of love making? Because I don’t wanna be the middle of having a good time and then we both die because you get trigger happy,” you narrow your eyes at him, chewing on your bottom lip to hide your growing smile.

“At least I’d die a blessed man,” he gives a girlish sigh—his mask flashing to hearts for a brief second.

You jab your palm into his chest with an embarrassed chuckle and he only stumbles back with a suggestive, fake hurt sound. It makes your ears burn bright red and you scramble to pull your hood over your head while he makes himself comfortable beside you. You notice how he purposely lets his elbows brush against yours in an attempt to embarrass you further. You rear your hand back to slap him on his forearm and he flinches away with a giggle.

For quite some time—well, since you met Wrench, you can’t put your finger on whether he means everything he says regarding the things between you two or if he’s just joking. Part of you really hopes that one day he will follow through with all of these promises and the other part of you hopes he keeps his distance. Wrench has a habit of bringing you into his shenanigans. Not peer pressure but the simple fact that all he has to do is clasp his hands together, mumble a few _please’s_ and you fall into his little trap.

The psycho knows you have a weak spot for him; now how? That remains a mystery because Wrench can’t read people to save his life. Breaking things is his strong suit, not digging into minds and body language. The only digging he would do is a grave for the people who get in his way.

The best example of that would be the way he swooned over that barista for months and never noticed that she slipped glances his way in return. You witnessed first hand the way they always wanted to make a move but never do anything. If Marcus hadn’t played wing man, you’re quite sure Wrench would still be chasing after the poor girl. Then again, you have no idea if the relationship worked out seeing as he wouldn’t be talking to you the way he does if he had a girlfriend.

You want to ask but that feels like an invasive question and Wrench is a personal guy. Personal enough no one knows his name or face—at least you don’t. Dedsec most likely does with what everything they have been through already.

Yet the question nags at the back of your mind and you can’t help but ask, “How did things go with that barista? You two ever hit it off?”

Wrench casts a dotted glance whilst fumbling with the beer bottle caps. He hands a beer over to you once open then proceeds to roll his wrist, seemingly thinking of an appropriate answer. You raise a brow at his uncharacteristic silence and chase down the lump in your throat with a swing of beer. It takes like dirty socks but you choke it down anyway.

“I like to think we hit it off at first,” he finally answers, voice tilted with something you can’t decipher. Hesitation, maybe.

“At first?”

“Look, don’t get me wrong, she was one hell of a gal but things kind of died out after awhile. And I’m not one to stick around somewhere I don’t want to be,” he lays a hand on his chest as if he’s pledging that to himself.

“So you dipped? Was it a mutual thing?” You peer into his side.

“Mutual on both ends,” he pinches the fat of your cheek.

You squint your eyes dangerously narrow as he continues to dig into your face with his thumb and forefinger. The thought of biting him is appealing to your horny, overstimulated brain before you eventually just slap his wrist in defeat. All he does he silently chuckle behind the mask, the only telling signs is his trembling shoulders.

“You know it’s not fair for you to lie to the person that keeps buying you those pizzas every weekend without charge,” you knowingly call him out with a flutter of your lashes.

He snatches his hand back like you had burned him with a simple touch of your fingertips. His fists curl into his chest and he stares at you with a wide eyed expression; well, from what you can tell by his mask emotes. You lift a brow at his behavior.

“Are you threatening me?”

You wave a dismissive hand which makes him huff. “I might be. Who’s to say? Unless you,” you scratch the side of your nose, “tell me the truth.”

“I suppose there isn’t a point to hide anything from you. If you were going to spill like a overfed fat man on Christmas Day, you would have already. You know more about Dedsec than you should at this point. Sitara would castrate me if she knew I was the one who spilled the beans.”

You cringe at the termanology he put so elegantly. Then again, this is Wrench you hang around. The dude would gut someone open with a paperclip and make a sex joke not a second after—probably something along the lines of blood being an effective source of lube. Anything that comes out of his mouth should be taken lightly.

“I stopped going to 10 Donuts sooooo long ago,” he confesses with an unconcerned upwards tilt of his shoulders. Your eyes follow the way his hands flex when he does so, specifically trained on the rippling tendons.

You gape at his studded self like a fish out of water. Did you just hear him right? 

“What? When did that happen? You went there every day for awhile!” You exclaim with a rush of air.

You wait in anticipation for his answer. The silence that catches up to the situation makes you squirm in exasperation and yet all he does is tilt his head to the side, observing the way you bounce up and down. He can practically see the uncontainable curiosity well in your eyes.

“When you showed up. _Aghhh_ , I just couldn’t stick around a woman who didn’t have my heart anymore. Not when I have your sexy self to hang out with, and what’s better! You like total CHAOS! You should know that trait gives me a _raging boner_.”

Somewhere in the back of your mind you know you should roll your eyes, laugh, and carry on like he hadn’t said anything in the first place. His words this time don’t hold their casual, goofing around dip. They carry a tiny hint of seriousness and it makes your whole body erupt in a blush.

You pull on the neck of your hoodie away from your neck to help cool you off. Suddenly you feel like you’re choking. Does he realize he confessed his true feelings? By the way he’s acting, you would take a gander and say he is completely clueless.

“Wrench, you are an absolute idiot.”

His mask lights up with exclamation points. “What did I do?”

Now might be good time to make a move.

You drain your beer for a liquid confidence boost, set the empty bottle to the side and lean into him, fingers barely grazing the outer line of his anarchy tattoo. Said tattoo bobs when he swallows, nervous at the close proximity.

“You should take me out on a date if you want me to pop your metaphorical cherry so bad. That could be arranged, you know.”

Another anxious swallow, a flicker to heart emotes, a breathless sigh. It makes your cheeks darken in color but your confidence surge to new heights. You have him in the palm of your hand at this point the power is exhilarating.

“Unless I got the wrong impression,” you back off enough to give him room to breathe, “in which case, we’ll continue having our pizza weekends like nothing happened.”

You hop down from the bench and send him a wink over the slope of your shoulder. After throwing away your empty beer bottle and dusting off your pants, you make your way for the exit. Wrench doesn’t move from his spot until you send him a wave to tell him you’re on your way, in which he scrambles to the floor and over to you. You watch with baited breath as he blocks the door with mad slashes and a stabby finger.

“You— I— you can’t just metaphorically tickle my pickle like that and then leave! You _want_ to give me a case of blue balls?” He jabs the air with his pointer finger.

“Well what’s your answer? Because depending on what it is, I could help with that,” you lean your weight on one foot and tuck your hands into your hoodie pockets.

“You’re serious?”

“Dead.”

A genuine laugh bubbles up your throat when all he can do is stare. A stunned silence, someone just coughed during a conference meeting kind of silence. You nuzzle under his arm to knock him out of his daze. “Text me the details. I have to get home and decode some encrypted messages by Blume. I almost have them cracked. I’ll be sure to send you the info once I do.”

You slip from his grasp out out of the back door just before he can pull you back in. Wrench watches you give him finger guns before turning the corner and disappearing from sight as if you hadn’t been in his garage to begin with. He blinks a few times to reboot his fried brain and looks back over to his bench where a lone sandwich in a plastic bag lays.

All of that he didn’t even give it to you. In his defense, he didn’t expect you to go full _just sexed up his dad and now he calls you mommy_ on him.

It just gives him an excuse to drop by your place later on.

•••

You rub the tired away from your eyes with a yawn. The light from your computer screen almost seems to burn your corneas anytime you try to get back to decoding and your fingers are starting to cramp, much to your discomfort.

A glance over at your clock tells you it’s after 2 am. The piled up empty energy drinks only slightly blocks the view but you catch enough of a look at the numbers to know it is way too late. You finally listen to your body and flop back onto your bed after closing your computer down for the night. Scrambling after codes can wait until tomorrow when you feel refreshed and awake enough to concentrate. Trying to take down corporations while half asleep could lead to disaster.

The slip up with Dedsec was enough of one.

You roll onto your side and nuzzle your face into your pillow. Sleep touches the outer edges of your mind and as willing as you are for it to take hold, thoughts of all kinds distract you. Specifically, thoughts of Wrench and the way you had him shocked into silence.

Was it too bold? He really didn’t say too much to tell whether he was down for your proposition or not. Then again, you didn’t give him much time to before you dipped. You know yourself well enough to know that if you had stayed after that, things would have gotten awkward on your end. The beer didn’t even give you a buzz but you acted like it had. It was an in the moment mind of buzz that made you act and you’re not sure you could do it again given the chance.

You startle when your phone begins to ring. Who has the audacity to call you at this time? You peer over the edge of your bedside table to see that Wrench is the one interrupting your late night anxieties. After chewing on your bottom lip and debating whether or not you should answer, you decide it would make it worse on yourself if you didn’t. Chances are he knows you aren’t asleep yet.

You press the phone to your ear with a lump in your throat. “Why are you calling me at 2 in the morning?”

Oh, that was smooth. Smooth like chunky peanut butter on moldy bread.

“Get out of bed and put on some clothes. We’re going out to cause mischief. I will take no if’s and’s or but’s. The only butt I will take is the one you have attached to your body. That is the only exception!”

You can’t contain your growing smile.

“You didn’t say I couldn’t ask questions. Why exactly are we going to cause some mischief?”

“I don’t know about you but I want my cherry popped and you said all I have to do is take you on a date,” he responds without a beat. The eagerness in his voice makes you chuckle.

“Do you even have a cherry to pop?”

“No, but we can reenact it if you want.”

You run a hand through your hair. The tired ache in your bones has vanished into thin air. “This late at night? What in God’s name do you have planned that can’t wait? Because I don’t think I have the heart to come between you and your right hand. I’m a flirt, not a homewrecker.”

“My right hand only thinks of you, Hot Stuff.”

You end up laughing. “Okay okay. You can tell me the details in person. Where do we need to meet up?”

“Not to be creepy but I’m totally being creepy. Look outside.

You sit straight up in your bed. He lowkey just said he was outside. You scramble over to your window, lift the blinds and find that he’s leaning against a car that is definitely not owned by him. The shiny leather makes your heart jump. How romantic; he even stole a car for this date. If that isn’t romance at its finest, you don’t know what is.

“You have to promise this isn’t a one time thing, Wrench.”

“You didn’t hear this from me but I’m totally not planning on proposing to you with a ring pop tonight. Definitely not going to ask you to be my girlfriend or anything. P.S... it’s watermelon flavor.”

You swear you have never gotten ready for a date so fast in your life.


End file.
